The Tale of Thandral Proudhart
Frosthorn Hala was an ancient Hala full of the proudest of the lineages, full of Summer magics, full of Changelings. If you asked any of Frosthorn when their hold had been founded they would have told you that their line predated the Empire, predated the written word, predated even the Trolls. We of Sigehold, only a few years old, we could not possibly gainsay them. With his swept back antlers, his arrogant demeanour and his weapon, Frostforge, his was a distinctive figure amongst the artisans and warriors of Sigehold. Thandral was of the line of Thanes in Frosthorn. He and his sister fought with the Talon Sworn, a unit of soldiers proud to fight with Jussi under Ardith, the founder of Sigehold. But his Changeling blood, the knowledge within him that he had been born to lead, that caused Thandral to butt heads with our first Thane on more than one occaision. Haughty and Proud though he was, the Changelings of the line of Frosthorn were brave and Thandral was no exception. He took to the battlefield for the Empire, for the Mark and for Sigehold many times. Swinging his immense hammer, blue with the enchanted ice it was made from, he cut down enemies left and right, cutting a bloody swathe through the barbarians. None who fought beside him doubted his valour, doubted his battle frenzy or his heroes intent. Once, in the retreat from Frosthorn he had lost his sweetheart, Roana, and she had been enslaved by the Thule. Thandral had been a boy, obeying his father and his Thane but when he met with his true love in Anvil, years later, to hear that rather than die, as he thought she had, she had been enslaved by the evil Thule he swore an oath. His oath, that he would not leave any friend behind to die upon the battlefield. When he saw the Scop, Stonewater, dying upon the field of war as Wintermark retreated he leapt into the fray. His antlers stood proud against the sky, his enchanted hammer swept away the orcs as though they were butterflies. With one sweep Grendel went tumbling, with another swing their heads left their bodies and all the scop could see was the bloodied Changeling with the Ice Hammer standing over him. Thandral threw the scop across his broad shoulders and cursing that there was not more time to kill the Grendel forces he ran for the closing Sentinel Gate. In Anvil the Grimnir confirmed that the Scop was dying and so gently Thandral of the line of Frosthorn did lay him down before his Thane that he might end his journey in comfort surrounded by his hall and friends. He made to leave and Stonewater bade him stop, for all that Scop could see as his eyes dimmed was the proudly bloodied and unbowed Changeling carrying him home, those antlers pointed to the sky, refusing to let the Grendel take him. And thus, with his dying breath the scop named him; Thandral Proudhart. A name which we of the young hall of Sigehold can confirm Thandral of the Ancient Changeling line of Frosthorn, proudly lived up to.